Bittersweet Solace
by Gracielinn
Summary: Wyatt was startled by a soft voice on his right, "Excuse me, is this seat taken?" and turned his head just enough to see a pretty brunette around his age, all big doe eyes and a cloud of wavy dark hair, gazing expectantly at him... (TFP)


_A/N #1: This Wyatt P.O.V. one shot is set approximately three years before the pilot episode..._

Bittersweet Solace

Wyatt didn't care to examine too closely the possible rationale as to why he had gotten in his truck, hopped on the I-5 South, and driven over thirty miles from Pendleton to the Gaslamp District. It could be he was tired of the usual bars located around the base, seeing the same faces ( _on the rare occasion he even looked up from the ever-full glass in his hand_ ), most of whom reflected the same dull, weary despair his own face likely did. Or it was entirely conceivable, he mused, that he wanted to avoid running into anyone he knew from Pendleton, especially one of his well-meaning buddies, who always felt honor bound to keep him from the sweet oblivion he sought on a near-daily basis in the bottom of a bottle of Jack. Master Sergeant Logan himself would willingly lay down his life for anyone in his Delta Force unit, so while he could understand and respect where the guys were coming from, unfortunately, that mind set really interfered with the whole "getting drunk on his ass" objective Wyatt set for himself when he walked into a bar.

Both were perfectly good reasons for his little field trip, except neither was applicable this evening. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and just like last year, he was trying to ignore the whole holiday circus. Wyatt should have known better, though, than to open what was clearly a Christmas card that came in his mail that afternoon. But like an idiot, he'd opened the envelope and pulled out a bright, cheerful-looking card wishing him a "Happy Holiday," which was bad enough, but instead of dropping it like a poisonous snake, Wyatt had gone and read the damn thing, surprised to see it was from one of his late wife's cousins back in Texas. " _Poor Cousin Becky_ ," he thought sardonically, " _had apparently drawn the short straw and gotten stuck with the sad duty of reaching out to Jess' grieving widower in California_."

Suddenly feeling like an injured bear being tormented by someone with a sharp stick, Wyatt had immediately crumpled the offensive missive into a ball and threw it across the room. Jesus, why couldn't people understand he just wanted to be alone? He hesitated for only a moment before grabbing his keys and making sure he had his phone and wallet before getting in his truck. And somehow, wallowing in his anger and unhappiness, Wyatt had unthinkingly made his way to one of his wife's favorite places in San Diego, the Gaslamp district. Jess had loved the atmosphere of the restaurants and bars in the colorful neighborhood, and the two of them had visited often. However, since her death nearly two years ago, Wyatt as a rule very carefully avoided going any place where they had spent time during their marriage. Yet, here he sat at The Tipsy Crow, finishing a second whisky since his arrival around an hour ago. So maybe, his lightly-buzzed mind concluded, Wyatt Logan had absolutely no reason at all to be in this place at this time.

Motioning to the not particularly busy bartender for a refill, Wyatt glanced around absently and stilled at the feeling someone was watching him. Not surprisingly, the bar wasn't that crowded two days before Christmas. Most people were probably busy with last-minute holiday preparations or celebrations, he thought cynically. Whatever. To Wyatt, December 25 was just another day to get through since his wife had been brutally murdered. Shrugging away the feeling, he picked up the now full glass in front of him and closing his eyes, drank deeply, welcoming the punishing burn of the dark amber liquid as it slid down his throat. As he was slowly setting the glass down, Wyatt was startled by a soft voice on his right, "Excuse me, is this seat taken?" and turned his head just enough to see a pretty young woman around his age, all big doe eyes and a cloud of wavy dark hair, gazing expectantly at him. He regarded her silently.

At his prolonged, impolite lack of response, her face warmed, and clearing her throat nervously, she tried again, "Um, is someone sitting here?" gesturing to the empty bar stool next to him. Wyatt finally shook his head and turning his eyes forward, pretended not to notice as the woman less than gracefully perched her slender frame on the stool before murmuring breathlessly, "Thanks." His lips curled in a faint sneer when she ordered white wine, because of course that's exactly what someone who looked the way she did and was dressed like her drank, although he was faintly surprised when she asked the bartender to start a tab. Of average height, he estimated, and very slim, Wyatt doubted the woman was much of a drinker. His traitorous mind, however, pointed out rather unhelpfully that she did seem to be gently curved in all the right places.

She politely thanked the now attentive bartender when he placed her drink on a napkin in front of her, and after taking a small sip, smiled shyly in Wyatt's direction and offered, "My name is Lucy. What's yours?" Looking up from his glass a couple heartbeats later, he met her eyes unwillingly, and frowned slightly before he grudgingly replied, "Wyatt," in a dismissive tone. Strangely enough, the unknown female didn't seem put off by his brusque manner at all. Her smile widened as she responded, "Nice to meet you, Wyatt. Are you from San Diego?"

Dammit, he knew better than to interact with women in bars. In his experience, it was like giving scraps to a stray dog, he thought rather spitefully, although this Lucy couldn't be considered a dog by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, not only was she very nice looking, the soft red sweater, slim black pants, and modest gold jewelry she was wearing were obviously expensive, and Wyatt felt a touch of remorse for acting like a dick to someone who was just trying to make conversation. This woman didn't know him, had no idea that Master Sergeant Wyatt Logan was damaged goods. He very discreetly checked out her left hand and saw no evidence of a ring on any of her long, elegant fingers, and perhaps in atonement for his unkind thoughts, swallowed his irritation, and told Lucy he was originally from Texas and currently stationed at Camp Pendleton about a half hour away.

Her dark eyes lit up at that information, "Ah, a military man from the Lone Star state. Well, that explains quite a lot," and grinned mischievously at the sudden rusty bark of laughter her comment reluctantly coaxed from him. God, he could barely remember the last time he was amused, let alone laughed. There was something about this woman, Wyatt realized in amazement. Watching her face as she talked animatedly, a long-dormant, purely male interest began stirring in his mind (and elsewhere). He blinked in confusion at the unfamiliar sensation and struggled to focus as she appeared not to notice his wandering attention and continued, "I know there are a couple different branches of the service headquartered at Camp Pendleton. Which one are you a member of?" And in spite of his best intentions, at her seemingly sincere interest, Wyatt found himself opening up to a woman for the first time since Jess died.

A couple hours later, in addition to talking more about himself than he had in years, Wyatt had learned that Lucy was from San Francisco, was building a career as an assistant professor of U.S. History at Stanford University, and she had been in town the past three days for an educational conference at the Civic Center. He was impressed. Not only was Lucy pretty and charming ( _and smelled really good_ ), she was quite intelligent, too. Although he had voluntarily sworn off any female companionship during the past couple of years (though not for a lack of offers), Wyatt was intrigued by this woman and found himself staring at her soft rose lips and thinking how much he'd like to taste their sweetness.

He must have inadvertently telegraphed his thoughts because her expressive eyes widened as she paused mid sentence and blushed becomingly. While he continued to gaze intently at her, Lucy took a sip of liquid courage, and drifting towards him, whispered for his ears alone, "I've never done anything like this before..." when Wyatt interrupted with a simple, "Yes." She leaned back on the bar stool carefully, never taking her eyes off him before managing to say, "My flight home doesn't leave until tomorrow afternoon," and taking a shallow breath, asked, "Would you like to come to my room?" and looking deeply into her soft brown eyes, Wyatt saw the same flicker of desire that was slowly coursing through his veins. Quickly making up his mind, he leaned in closely to Lucy and breathed, "Yes," against her delicate cheek. Lucy trembled as she slightly turned her head and her eyes fluttered shut as his breath gently caressed her soft lips.

Wyatt smiled in satisfaction and turning back to the bar, signaled for their bills. When Lucy offered a weak protest, he merely raised a dark brow at her, and she instead smiled her thanks and stood up to put on her jacket. "I'm staying at the William Penn Hotel on F Street, just a couple blocks from here," she told him bashfully as Wyatt put his hand on the small of her back and escorted her through the thinning crowd to the front door. Lucy shivered when they were outside, although it was still nearly fifty degrees out. Wyatt experienced a little spark of tenderness at the realization she was nervous, and he found that quite endearing. Reaching for her small hand felt right, and their mutual silence during the brief walk to her hotel wasn't the least bit uncomfortable.

As they stood waiting in front of the elevator, he squeezed her hand reassuringly, and Lucy looked up at him in surprise and confessed in a quiet voice, "I'm a little nervous," and she smiled in patent relief when he whispered back, "Me, too." The elevator doors opened, and Wyatt followed her inside, and once the doors smoothly slid together and the elevator car slowly traveled upwards, he tugged Lucy toward him and began nuzzling her neck and behind her ear. He was rewarded for his efforts when she trembled and clung to his shoulders. All too soon, the elevator stopped and the doors opened. Wyatt reluctantly pulled back and gestured for Lucy to proceed, and hid a pleased smile when she blinked dazedly and began to dig in her bag for the keycard. Keeping his hand on her back as they made their way down the long hallway, Wyatt was relieved when she finally stopped in front of the door to her room and pulled the card out with a shaky hand. She smiled gratefully at Wyatt when he thoughtfully took the card from her hand and opened the door, "Such a gentleman," she observed, and snickered when he leered at her invitingly.

Once inside, Wyatt placed the keycard on the dresser beside Lucy's bag, and taking off his jacket, tossed it into a chair in the corner. He turned around to see Lucy watching him with languid, heated eyes as she removed her own coat, dropping it on the floor before he reached out and tipping her chin up, leisurely took possession of her tempting mouth. Her lips parted eagerly under his, and Wyatt deepened the kiss, thrilled at the tiny whimpers Lucy couldn't control. His heart pounded thunderously as her small hands began tearing at his shirt buttons, and he returned the favor by taking his mouth from hers long enough to hastily jerk her sweater over her head. Quickly shedding the rest of their clothes, a moment later, they were both bare, and pulling Lucy to him, Wyatt groaned at the feel of her slender body nestled against his. She was beautiful, all pale, creamy skin, long, elegant limbs, and soft dark hair. It had been such a long time ( _too damn long_ ), and his breath caught at the sensations her closeness was arousing in him.

Kissing her feverishly, Wyatt deftly backed her towards the bed, and grinned when she fell back on the bed with a muffled exclamation. He pounced on her like a thirsty man discovering a cool oasis in the desert. "Hurry, Wyatt, please," she panted, pulling him on top of her so closely he could feel her heart beating against his, and for the first time in nearly two years, he purposefully stopped thinking and just let himself fully experience being with Lucy. Although it was possible that Wyatt might have a few regrets tomorrow, at this very moment, he was powerless to deny his need and desire for this woman. In the small portion of his brain that still processed rational thought, Wyatt made the conscious decision to worry about it tomorrow. Tonight was not for regret, but for taking joy in being alive.

Wyatt slowly blinked open his eyes and was momentarily confused by his unfamiliar surroundings. Where the hell was he? Gaslamp district. The pretty history professor from San Francisco. Lucy. He was in Lucy's hotel room. Wyatt lay quietly for a minute or two before shutting his eyes again as memories of the night before began flooding his brain, shivering slightly as flashes of images and sensations danced against his eyelids: skin soft as velvet to the touch, whispered moans, warm lips, slender limbs tangled with his. Lucy had been exquisite, sweet, and loving, and in between short naps, Wyatt had reached for her again and again during the dark hours of the night. It had been one of the most satisfying intimate experiences of his life. His eyes popped open again as he became aware of the hushed stillness of the room. Sitting up quickly, Wyatt looked around the room, and sighed deeply in disappointment as it dawned on him that there was no sign of Lucy or her belongings. She was gone. Dammit. He threw back the covers and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Wyatt started to stand when he saw a folded piece of white paper on the night stand. Sitting back down, he pulled the covers over his lap and reached for the note, quickly scanning the contents.

 _Dear Wyatt,_

 _Please forgive me for leaving you without saying goodbye. I know it was cowardly of me, but I got the impression that you weren't looking for anything more than what we had last night. And that's okay, I understand. And please believe me when I tell you that what we shared was wonderful, incredible, beautiful, and there are so many more adjectives I could use, but in short, what I experienced with you was the best night of my life. You are an amazing man, Wyatt, and I envy the woman who will someday have your heart. It probably sounds selfish, but I hope that if you ever think of me again, you will do so fondly. I'm certain I will never forget you or this night. Please take care of yourself. Lucy_

Wyatt read Lucy's note one more time before getting out of bed. After a quick shower, he got dressed and tucking the note in his pocket, checked his phone before realizing he hadn't gotten her phone number and didn't even know her last name. Vaguely disappointed, Wyatt supposed if he tried hard enough, he could probably go to San Francisco and Stanford University and track Lucy down, but that wasn't really what he wanted or needed right now. Looking at the time, it was likely she was already on her way home. He silently wished her a safe journey, humbled and gratified that she had so generously shared herself with him last night. In spite of her assumption that he would forget her, Wyatt knew he'd always remember the pretty brunette. And who knows, it was possible that some day, he would make that trip to San Francisco, and maybe, just maybe, he'd be lucky enough to find her again.

 _A/N #2: I guess this is my take on the whole "Wyatt and Lucy meet in a bar years before that first night at Mason Industries" story prompt. As usual, I had an idea that just kept bouncing around my head, begging to be written, and I actually wrote this really quickly in just one evening. So please forgive any glaring mistakes. Although this should be my last fic before Christmas, I promise that I'm working on the next chapter of First Steps and will try to get that posted sometime next week. My continued thanks and appreciation to everyone for their favorites, follows, and especially reviews (c'mon, make my Christmas merrier, LOL). Finally, I wish a wonderful holiday to all my Timeless friends :)_


End file.
